


party in the USA

by gogollescent



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 21:09:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gogollescent/pseuds/gogollescent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Terezi turns seven right in front of him: he feels it, click, in his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	party in the USA

Terezi turns seven right in front of him: he feels it, click, in his head. 

“Hey,” he says, stupidly, “birthday girl,” and she lifts her head from the smellescope and gives him the most disbelieving look, like it’s so unreasonable that in the repertoire of the Knight of Time there’d be a little box for always knowing when your mortal alien buds get that much closer to their colorful deaths. 

But she says, “Wriggling,” her mouth dripping black off the word. “Wriggling day.”

“Right, yeah, whatever,” says Dave, and plants his hands on his hips, and then hastily removes them before he sprouts a hairband. “The point is, you didn’t tell me you were hoppin’ it up towards the big one oh. Just think, TZ: someday, double digits! Middle school. You’re-still-a-virgin-if-he-only-stuck-a-chicken-up-your-butt sex ed, as lovingly enforced by the Texas state government.” Not that he went to public school. Not that Rose didn’t give him the Talk in the form of a three thousand word review of the sixth Harry Potter book. But damn if he isn’t in tune to his cultural heritage. 

“I didn’t know,” says Terezi. “It’s been difficult to keep track of time since you peed on the same calendar you masterminded.” 

“That was apple juice,” says Dave, weakly. “And you know now.”

“Thanks,” says Terezi. She has one hand on the side of the ‘scope, her fingers holding the curve of metal like Jade touches her guns. There’s no telling what she smells of their future, laid out in front of them like clear dark beads against the darker void, except she tells them every time, citing death and the shadow of old faces floating on bubblesome blue. 

“What do you guys even do for this stuff?” he asks, before he can stop himself, or worse, not stop himself, some douche giving him thumbs up from behind a rock. “Do your friends send you the severed heads of your luscious boytoys, or what?”

Terezi’s nostrils flare. Is that like eye widening? Or is it like when people squint menacingly to get a better look? He’s never sure. He’s a shitty friend, also, but maybe that was a given. He hopes she’s not going to sniff his neck and then laugh: he’s pretty sure that if she laughs he’ll laugh too, and then probably start talking about dicks, and then it’ll be another sweep before he even thinks about her head-on.

But she says, “No.” She even looks sad, for Terezi: looks down, her eyes crescent in the trap of her lashes, like a skyline biting sky. 


End file.
